A Tale Not Soon Forgotten
by Daeron Klavik
Summary: This is not a story of love. This is not a story filled with joyful occasions and happily-ever-afters. This is not a fairy tale. This is a story of perseverance, of the harsh realities of war, and of loss; this is the story of a tale not soon forgotten.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

The darkness, unbroken, struck fear into her heart. She could hear the world grinding against itself as the scattered pieces formed a solid barrier between her and the world she had come to know as home. _There is no escape,_ she thought. _We are going to die._ Cynder found herself strangely content with her conclusion, although it was probably due to the direct exposure to Spyro's immense positive energy.

_Spyro... where is he?_ _He's gone!_ Cynder suddenly realized, for in fact there was nothing but residual magic where the purple dragon had stood not a minute before. "Spyro!" she shouted, "Spyro, where are you?"

"Cynder, I'm up here!" She glanced in the direction of the voice to find the hero clinging in a rather ungainly way the the underside of a massive section of the planet. "Come on, we can ride this thing all the way to the surface." Cynder eyed the rock suspiciously.

"Oh yes? Please tell me, Spyro, just how you propose we escape the several-mile-thick solid rock barrier when we get up there!" Nevertheless she quickly rose into the air and latched on beside him, smiling brightly. Spyro winked and said, "I still have _some_ energy left... it should be enough to dig a tunnel through to the outside... but I think I might need a little bit of a break before we go back to Warfang. A few days should be enough, but we'll see." He winked slyly as the rock began to ascend rapidly. Cynder merely laughed and winked back.

"I do truly love you, you know. I meant it before and I mean it now."

"I know, Cynder... and so do I. I love you. I have for a long time." Their behemoth vessel slowed and stopped as it approached the inside of the planet's crust, and as soon it rejoined its fellow minerals Spyro began to dig. Cynder gently clasped his tail blade in her mouth as dirt and green energy whistled past her head at deadly speeds. But she wasn't worried. After all, Spyro was the purple dragon, and Cynder had yet to see him make a mistake involving magic.

It took roughly three hours to plow through 25 miles of many different layers of rock, and another two to locate a decent place to settle in for the following days. By that time it was dark, and almost subconsciously the two young dragons huddled close to each other, intertwining their tails, legs, and wings. They were asleep in less than a minute, and the peaceful silence remained so until well past sunrise the following day.

* * *

**Yes, it's short. And yes, it could be considered 'typical' because who _doesn't_ begin their story with the end of Dawn of the Dragon? I can assure you, however, that this story is _not_ your typical 'Malefor wants revenge' continuation, or any other such over-abused plots. In fact, this story runs much deeper than just the surface plotline. I am quite certain that that will become somewhat obvious in the following chapters. In fact, the inspiration for this story comes from an issue in our own world, one that many people will be familiar with.**

**If you find that this story crude, insulting, or just plain boring to you, feel free to tell me so but do not expect me to stop writing merely because you think I should.**

**For those of you who wish to politely convey your thoughts, also feel free to do so and I kindly thank you for your support and advice.**

**To those people who wish to continue reading, I strongly advise that you either bookmark my profile page or establish an author or story alert, as my schedule is a constantly shifting mess and new content may, at times, be few and far between.**

**As a last note: this story will be rated 'M' for mature, but I will only list it as such when the content becomes too intense to stay within the boundaries of 'T'. This includes violence, gore and bloodshed, and some psychologically taxing scenes, but the language will remain relatively tame.**

**You have now been dutifully warned, and I hope you enjoy the story! (P.S. I do not own Spyro, Cynder, or any other faction of the LoS universe. The rights belong to... whoever currently holds them, Activision or another such company)**


	2. Chapter 1

An edit and an update: I changed the time to resemble 'five hours' more accurately (Thank you Swissigar for bringing my attention to that). Also, and unfortunately, I will not be able to access my computer to write and update until mid-February. Sorry, but you'll just have to forget about me until such time as I can use the computer for any extended period of time.

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! This time with a decent length chapter to boot... but enough small talk, on with the story!**

**Oh, before I forget, and in case you ignored the second half of the prologue:**

**1) Feel free to troll, but you'll be sorely disappointed by my lack of emotion.**

**2) Thank you to those who don't like the story, and contributed your reasons why in order to better my writing.**

**3) You like/love it? Great! Don't forget to tell me what I should improve on, though.**

**4) I don't own the LoS universe or any related items. What I do own are my personal changes, characters, and storyboard.**

**5) If you like it, use some sort of method which allows quick access to new information on updates, as they are subject to my fluctuating schedule.**

* * *

**_Chapter 1: Intruders_**

_Ten years of peace. We fought hundreds- no, thousands- of enemies, each wave more skilled and better equipped than the last. We lost many friends and allies; dragons, cheetahs, and many others closely tied to us fell under the enemy's blades. One was especially heartbreaking... may the Ancestors give him everlasting peace._

_They died in vain, for scarcely half a decade later Volteer joined the uncountable spirits of those long forgotten... and some not so forgotten. Cyril also passed that same winter. Only Terrador, Cynder, and I remained, and the ever-present population issue became the top priority. But no matter how many times we mated, Cynder never produced a single egg. Distress reigned throughout the land. It soon grew to the point where there were riots on the cities, hunters failed to catch their prey, and farmers salted the competitions' crop land to gain an edge in the failing economy._

_Just over two hundred years ago, Terrador officially announced that dragonkind had, and I quote, "Most certainly lost its firm stance in this world. We are no longer the dominant species; we are but a shadow of your proud, just leaders. I trust that you will find alternate methods of leadership once Spyro, Cynder, and I have all passed on." Three days afterward, he breathed his last. Cynder and I were the only known remaining dragons._

_Leading a broken, confused, and soon-to-be leaderless empire is not a task anyone should have thrust upon themselves. It requires experience in many areas... most of which, I had never even heard of before that day. Politics, economics, statistics; all very nice to know, but nowhere near as interesting as war. I had become too restless, and being a king was not my ideal place. I prayed to the Ancestors day and night to free me from the nightmare nicknamed monarchism._

_Little did I know the consequences of my seemingly harmless pleas would be so... extravagantly disastrous._

_Today is the second centennial anniversary of their mystical arrival. I remember it all too well... a simple magical outburst gone wrong. That's right, this entire section of history was caused by the smallest breath of fire._

_The day was bright, warm, and calm; you never would have expected something to go wrong. Cynder and I had fought that day (the stress of leadership was already getting to us), and I suggested some peace of mind. She agreed and moved to follow me, but I explained that I meant both of us to be utterly alone- much to her disappointment might I add, but she agreed nonetheless and veered west. I went north, to a lake I had discovered long ago on our travels._

_I can't tell you exactly how long I sat there, doing nothing but staring into the depths of the reflected sky, but I can tell you that the sun was setting by the time I looked up. I don't exactly recall why- perhaps it was the stress- but I unleashed a torrent of flames skyward in a sudden burst of aggression and frustration. The flames died in a matter of seconds, but as I continued to watch, the energy released with them formed into a bright pinpoint of power. That was certainly odd, but before I could move to examine the occurrence, the very air began to vibrate with an intensity I had only seen one other place: the overflow of a convexity blast. Naturally, I assumed that was what it was... and then realized that it was pointing directly at me._

_Now, if you have even the most basic instincts, you would realize the danger and flee. Well... I didn't. Flee, that is._

_A mistake on my part as it turns out._

_I never realized just how much a shock wave-induced concussion can hurt._

_As my vision faded, I saw five strange creatures step seemingly out of thin air... they were... tall... with... two... legs..._

* * *

"Master Michael! Master Michael... are you okay?"

"Ugh... GAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"I will take that as a 'no' then. Allow me to help you up." A black-scaled arm extended toward a pitifully pale, flabby-skinned human teenager of sixteen. He took a minute to focus his blurred vision on it, then grasped the forearm and allowed the reptilian figure to haul him off the floor. He gazed into the somber, blood-red eyes of the seven-foot figure, who was by this time smiling sadly down at him.

"Phew, thanks Roquin," Michael said while brushing himself down.

"Of course sir, that's what I'm here for after all." Michael looked up again.

"Yes, I suppose it is... oh, ah, my arm," he muttered. The limb he spoke of, his left arm, was beginning to leak blood, staining his already-dirty white t-shirt. Roquin sniffed it cautiously, snorted, and began to lead Michael towards the kitchen. Once there, the dragon brought forth a first-aid kit. He started by gently rubbing the gash with a wet cloth until the dirt and other debris had been cleared out. Next, he prepared a bandage by rubbing one side with Neosporin. Finally, he turned back to Michael and said, "I will not deny it: this is going to hurt. A lot." Michael nodded, and Roquin proceeded to pour rubbing alcohol directly onto the cut.

It certainly did hurt, and Michael almost couldn't hold back a shout. After a few seconds however, the pain subsided and the bandage was wrapped securely over the exposed flesh. Both breathed a sigh of relief together, Roquin because he hated the bitter, metallic smell of blood and Michael because he hated pain.

"Having fun?"

The pair started and looked around. They found the source of the voice to be a rather tall man, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Dad! How... how long were you standing there?" Michael managed to stutter out.

"Not very long... why? Is there something I should know?" the man responded while raising one eyebrow.

"What? No..."

"I see... What were you doing here anyway? The staircase has been nearly blown to splinters."

"I am very sorry to interrupt you Mister Dorfae, but I must take the blame for that." The man, or John Dorfae as he was named, devoted his attention to the dragon. "I was asked by your son to demonstrate my elemental ability, regardless of the nature of Fear, in order to experience some excitement. Knowing my power to be relatively weak, I foolishly made the assumption that it would do little harm to allow myself the full use of said element. Unfortunately, it seems that I have grown slightly stronger over the years, and the result was quite explosive."

John remained stoic even after Roquin had finished his explanation. Slowly, he raised his hand to his chin and stroked it. Another minute passed in silence. Then another. Finally, John spoke, "Michael, if you can make it upstairs, please go to your room. I will deal with you later." The teen nodded and moved to leave, but at the last moment turned and asked, "What's going to happen to Roquin, dad?" John sighed.

"He needs to be punished, just as you will be. Now go." Michael reluctantly turned and climbed the desecrated stairway. At the top, he glanced down just in time to watch the door close on the two adults. He scuttled down the hall to his room, and concentrated to see if he could hear anything from downstairs. When he couldn't, he shrugged, shut the door, and collapsed onto his bed. He turned to look at the time and discovered that it was ten minutes past two in the afternoon, Sunday, March ninth, 2234. As he continued to stare at the clock, he drifted into unconsciousness. The dark was peaceful, and the young Dorfae was content for a time.

**_Five hours later_**

Michael bolted upright as a sharp crack split the air. He glanced at the clock again; it read 7:03 PM. Another piercing slap rang through his ears, and this time he realized with dread what it was. Moving to the window, he gazed down into a large field covered with row upon row of various crops. There was tobacco, corn, wheat, potatoes, even marijuana in places. As he turned to look right another crack rang out, and his suspicions were confirmed: Roquin was tied to the whipping post. John stood nearby, watching as Whip-Master Gregory (or 'Gutless Greg' as the slaves called him) dealt sever blows to Roquin's back- ten in total. When they were done, Michael opened the window just enough to eavesdrop on what Gregory was saying.

"What is your place, dragon? Tell me."

"I- I am a servant, sir."

"Yes, but what is the place you _reptilian scum_ hold, hmm?"

"Slaves, sir."

"Don't forget that, or we'll be seeing each other again. And I'm sure you don't want that." The man chuckled sinisterly before cracking his whip and walking off. "Good night, Mister Dorfae. Sleep well," he said in a pleasant manner. Michael couldn't help but wonder how he could stand the torture he served out to the dragons. Once he was gone, John untied Roquin from the post and allowed the dragon to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Half-dragging the gasping figure, he glided smoothly to the front door of the house, where Mrs. Dorfae waited to assist her husband.

Michael, curious as to how bad of a condition his caretaker was in, nearly fell from the second floor when he blindly rushed onto the nonexistent stairway. Instead, he climbed over the rail and dropped neatly onto the plush carpet of the entrance hall. His arm jarred and he croaked, which gave away his position, and his parents filed through the living room doorway.

"Michael," his mother stated simply.

"Hey mom, what happened? I saw Roquin out there. Was that his punishment for earlier?" The adults glanced at each other.

"...Yes," his father took over, "and we have also decided that you will accompany Roquin in the rebuild of the staircase. Once that is finished, you will be joining us in the fields from now on." Michael's jaw dropped, and he glanced between the two.

"Uh, uh, uh... okay," he breathed. Then he chuckled, "I guess some physical exercise would do me good. After all, video games can only get you so far in life."

His parents seemed rather surprised by his willingness. "Um, okay! Well, dinner is ready Michael. Why don't we head into the kitchen." His mother left, but John called his son back.

"Michael, I want you to listen to me very carefully son. Okay?" He nodded. "Good. Now, I want you to remember three things. Write them down, memorize them, I don't care, but never forget.

"The first is a single line: Within the heart of the flame, the compass shall lead you awry.

"The second is a moral principle: Dragons are not beneath us. They are our equals.

"The third is a promise, and this MUST be exactly word-for-word: _Remember the pioneers_. Repeat it back, please."

"Within the heart of the flame, the compass shall lead you awry. Dragons are our equals. Remember the pioneers. Got it." Michael's father nodded solemnly. Then both of them turned and entered the kitchen. A final statement rang out before the door closed on the vibrant chatter of three humans and seven dragons, "Meatloaf surprise! My favorite..."

* * *

**Blegh... I don't feel all that well.**

**It's probably because Midterm finals are this week... and what's funny is that the finals had to be re-arranged due to the lack of school today, which in turn was caused by snowfall! Today was great!**

**Oh, and I'm going out to sunny California here in the USA to visit family for Christmas. I'm hoping for about five hundred US dollars, so I can buy a decent computer (I'm using my mom's 10-year-old tablet PC, which has survived numerous physical hits, at least four separate OS viruses, a hard drive overload, and uncountable processor overloads- not to mention the force-shutdowns when it freezes up).**

… **Hey look, I made it to five pages!**

**Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it! Happy Hanukkah to those of you who celebrate _it_! And to those of you who don't celebrate anything... man, you don't know what you're missing!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Sorry it took me so long to upload the next chapter. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things soon- I just need to find some free time to write... junior year involves massive amounts of schoolwork.**

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Dilemmas Across Time_**

_I didn't know what to think the first time I saw them. Fear, curiosity, and even awe flitted through my mind that morning- all simultaneously, and all competing for the foremost position. It was quite a battle..._

_I remember groaning, then a voice saying, "It's awake, get ready," and some rustling. I cracked my eyes open to see a lone figure standing before me. Noticing how tall and thin it was, I assumed he was a cheetah or some other, similar character. So I stood up just as the sun broke through the trees- and nearly screamed- oh, what's the phrase? Ah yes... 'bloody murder'._

_Right now you must be thinking, 'A big strong dragon, scared of a puny human? No way!' Alright then, why don't I plop _you_ in front of a creature that looks like something it isn't, then reveal its true nature and see how _you_ react! Aw, no takers? Thought so._

_Anyway, where was I? Oh yes!_

_I attempted to back away, but hit a tree, then found I couldn't move at all; the shock had temporarily paralyzed me. Also, as I was backing up, the figure had raised a long rod. The movement was pretty obvious, and sent a powerful message as well. To me, it seemed almost as if the rod had literally said, 'Hi there! I'm a weapon, and a damn powerful one too, so don't judge me because of my size!' But that movement also sent a second, much more important sign- one from the wielder; one I wish I had caught. It said, 'I have a powerful weapon, and I will not hesitate to kill you with it.'_

_That thought never even crossed my mind, occupied as it was with the creature standing before me. Indeed, it did stand on two legs. However, the semblance to the Avalar felines ended there. This... _thing..._ wore very different clothing, possessed straighter legs, flatter feet, and much less hair. It also had five fingers. And no claws. In fact, the creature had very few attack or defense mechanisms of any kind. I- rather foolishly, might I add- forgot the rod the figure was holding, and moved to investigate more closely._

_Getting blasted with a 12-gauge shotgun shell at point-blank range (luckily it was buckshot, not a slug, or it might not have hurt at all... if you catch my meaning) is definitely not one of the more pleasant experiences I can honestly say I remember encountering. I believe the equivalent for a human would be to have someone swing a very heavy pipe (a metal baseball bat would also work) into your head- while you were wearing a helmet, of course. The helmet may stop you from dying, but it also has a side effect: VIBRATION._

_I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I remember is the creature standing over me (no doubt checking to see if I was dead or not). He returned to his old position once it noticed my open eyes, and, just like the first time since I awoke, he quietly and urgently, but also openly as if he thought I could not understand him. It was at this moment that I realized his situation was probably not much different than mine._

"_It's still alive guys," it said. "This thing is not to be underestimated." Another voice could be heard coming from the left of me. It said, "Wow, that thing just took a shell in the face and barely got scratched! I'll get the rockets ready." This was followed by more rustling and a stifled 'ca-chink'. After that, silence reigned for a full five minutes._

This is going nowhere_, I thought. _No, I have to communicate with them. They speak like I do, so this shouldn't be too hard... I hope...

_I opened my mouth at that point, but I couldn't think of anything to say except, "That really hurt."_

* * *

_**Wednesday, July twelfth, 2423; Noon**_

"Hey Cynder, do you know where I put that old Uzi?"

"Nice to see you too, Spyro. Why are you looking for it? I thought this was a stealth op. Plus, don't you hate that thing?"

_CLANG! _"Ouch! Ah! Stupid piece of-" _ BONG!_ "-OW! Dammit! I need it for a training session!"

"It's in that chest over there," the black dragon answered. She pointed to a large, ornate wooden trunk in the far corner of the one-room hut. Spyro nodded his thanks and hobbled over to it. He threw the cover open, and, faster than a snake, slithered his arm in, snatched the gun, and sneaked the strap around his amethyst neck. The chest's cast-iron lid closed with a snap mere inches from Spyro's paw. After a few seconds of adjustment, the legendary savior whirled around to leave, accidentally colliding with Cynder on his way out.

"Oof! Sorry Cyn," he promptly declared before rolling over and continuing out the door. But a slim tail stopped him in his tracks. He looked behind him to find the dragoness glaring at him. Determined to not be slowed down, he glared back playfully before swooping under the protruding limb. "I'll be back in a couple hours!" he called over his shoulder. Cynder chuckled lightly to herself.

"He'll never stop moving, will he?" she asked herself. Pushing thoughts of her mate aside, she turned and addressed a red dragoness who had just walked up.

"Your Majesty," the newcomer breathed, bowing low.

"Yes, Nic, what is it?"

"The scouting party has just reported signs of weakness in the human settlement's northern wall, just as you predicted," Nic stated. "_They_ predict a flawless entry- at the very least."

"Thank you. Say, where are you going next?"

The young dragoness was quite taken aback at being asked such a question from such a highly-esteemed figure. She was a nobody compared to Cynder! "Oh! Um, I- well, I thought a quick lesson on how to handle a human rifle would be useful... just in case I get stuck... or captured... always be prepared, right?" Nic flashed a nervous smile, but it wilted an instant later. Cynder nodded and turned towards the turn Spyro had just disappeared around.

"Well, you don't want to be late now do you? Go on!" the former terror exclaimed. "Your lesson is about to begin!" Nic bowed again and scuttled down the path. "Oh, and Nic," Cynder called after her, "please try to not shoot anyone." With a nervous laugh from the younger dragoness, they went their separate ways. They didn't see each other again until nearly midnight. By this time, though, the mission was underway and neither gained an opportunity in which they could relate the day's proceedings to anyone besides themselves. Therefore, I will relate them to you myself.

Cynder returned to her and Spyro's semi-permanent campsite, completed stacks upon piles upon heaps of paperwork, filed numerous requests and orders, went on a stroll through the 'city' of New Warfang, took a bath, and filled out many more hours' worth of forms. At exactly eleven o'clock PM, she gathered her stealth, tactical, and special operations equipment and joined the small group gathered at the Southernmost entrance to the military city. Gathered there were six others: Nic, Spyro, Feriel the cheetah, Visp the mole, and two snow leopard sisters whose real names were unknown; most simply referred to them as Washi and Der'mal.

As a quick side note, I would like to explain how a pair of snow leopards, being white (key word _snow_), are not exactly known for their uncanny ability to melt into the shadows. This presents a slightly upsetting dilemma: on the one hand, you have under your command two highly skilled warriors; but on the other, they present a tactical disadvantage, as anyone who happens to glance in their general direction at precisely the wrong time would undoubtedly discover their presence. Then again... perhaps New Warfang had finally discovered a decent use for that black material given to them by the humans nearly two hundred years earlier.

As for Nic, she did not end up a murderous traitor. In fact, she proved herself to be the most accurate gunner with the awkwardly positioned shoulder-mounted rifle designed specifically for humans, even among the anthropomorphic attendees. After the lesson, she and Spyro returned to their respective quarters, donned their own special stealth material (a water-soluble solution designed specifically to allow dragons easy application and removal of a substance similar in chemical construction to acrylic paint), hoisted a Lightweight Infantry Medical Pack (in layman's terms: a small first aid kit), and rejoined each other at the Southern Arche.

To say the others arrived in due time would be a gross understatement. In fact, Nic and Spyro completed four games of chess on the weathered board standing beside the gate (final score 3-1 in Spyro's favor) before Visp arrived. By that time, eleven had long since disappeared into the past. Over the next half hour, Washi, Der'mal, Feriel, and finally Cynder appeared and any last-minute preparations were hastily settled. And at the stroke of midnight, the mission was on.

It took nearly an hour of constant sprinting to cover the main distance between the two cities, and another five minutes to recuperate their lost breath. Once the stars were correctly aligned to signify one o'clock in the morning, Spyro spoke.

"Alright team, listen up. We only have one shot at this, so precision is key. The plan is simple enough: once our inside agent has disabled the guard at the designated section of the wall, Nic, Cynder, and I will scale the stones. Each of us will also be carrying one of you up- in my case two- in order to cut down the time it takes to get to safety. Once we're over the top, there will be a flight of stairs to our right. Unfortunately for you, we will not be taking them." At this point the four non-dragons stirred uneasily. "Instead, you have the honor of falling rapidly and being yanked sharply upward at the last second to avoid dieing. Once we're inside, we'll keep to the shadows and move away from the moon until we reach the Silver River. Okay, any questions?"

Feriel raised her arm slightly and asked, "Only one. What happens when we reach the river?"

"We wait."

"So that's it? We just trap ourselves in the enemy's stronghold with no supplies besides our LIMPs and Cynder's limited equipment and _wait_?" Spyro nodded. "Huh... okay then." After one last headcount confirming seven members, Spyro motioned for everyone to move forward and to the right. When the wall loomed into sight, the party settled into the branches of a tree and trained their eyes on the unfortunate guard currently on duty. Somehow, knowing the human's fate made it harder to wait... or perhaps it was the sheer level of inactivity.

But then, the man shouted incomprehensibly at a cloaked figure approaching him. The group's enhanced eyesight clearly identified the other as draconian, and apparently their contact, as he shot his paw up and cuffed the sentry just hard enough to render him unconscious. The dragon then turned and made a quick signal before retreating down a staircase.

Cynder, Spyro, and Nic were all over the battlements within five minutes, and loping across the ground on the other side thirty seconds after that. 'So far so good,' Spyro thought, and said aloud, "the river is just a few farms over, but don't get overconfident. Remember, these humans have technology beyond anything any of us could possibly have imagined, and are probably even more advanced here than anywhere." The other six nodded solemnly. "Alright, let's go!" Several quiet thumps were the only indicators of intruders as the team pressed onward.

The seven skittered around the numerous crop fields, leaped cleanly over the many irrigation canals, and were only forced to duck and hope that they hadn't been seen once; fortunately for them the man who had spotted them was too drunk to care, comprehend, or remember anything on that particular night. The invasion was almost perfect.

They had nearly arrived at their destination when a grand building loomed over their path. It was right in the way, and the river could be seen behind it, sending sprinkles of moonlight in every direction. The group halted at the treeline to consider their options, but in the end they all came to the same conclusion: they would have to sprint right by the house and risk being caught and killed. Steeling themselves, they shot out as quickly as they dared along the grass. They halted in a small ditch before moving on to make sure that nobody had seen them. When Visp reported no movement, the troop hopped back up and almost fell through a window as they rounded the house's corner. Spyro barely managed to hold their combined weight back by using a small burst of earth energy. A few sighs of relief were followed by six ducked figures continuing forward... but something inside had attracted Spyro's attention.

"Hey Cynder, come look at this," he whispered, never taking his gaze from the room beyond the glass. She quietly moved into position beside him and turned to look as well.

Inside, there were three beings. The most prominent was a human dressed only in white. The next thing one would have noticed was the dog staring back- no, not a dog... a dragon. Obviously the work of someone's genetic breeding, it seemed to be young, yet also fully grown- and intelligent, but not overly so. After all, how "aware" a mind could be relied upon brain size in certain instances. The third figure was another dragon, but this one was much more typical in physique and mentality to the others enclosed within the walls.

"Master, may I inquire as to what your purpose might be in staring at Scorro for an hour and a half?" Both Cynder and Spyro jumped slightly at the coarse noise.

"Shh, I'm in the middle of a staring contest!"

"Ah. Shall I leave then?" Roquin turned to leave.

"WAIT!" Michael's shout startled Scorro, who yelped slightly and backpedaled into a corner. The dark dragon stopped and stood patiently for his charge to say something. Which he did.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I lost control again, and I've decided that it cannot continue any more," he declared. "I order you to attempt to snap me out of it next time I fade, and if you can't... physically restrain me." Roquin made to interrupt, but the young Dorfae didn't let him. "You have my explicit permission to terminate my life, if necessary. No exceptions, do you understand?" The dragon nodded slowly. "Good. Now, I'm going to bed. I suggest you do so as well. And to anyone who might be listening in," he raised his voice slightly, "I suggest that they also move away from here." Outside, seven small gasps broke the silence for a split second. How could he have known they were there?

The light died, and a humbled squadron tumbled halfheartedly to the target position. No words were exchanged, and sleep was hard to come by. When they did sleep, the seven had nightmares about being discovered, and as the sun rose the next day, it was a severely discouraged group who mounted a perimeter guard around the only acre of forest left on the true bank of the Silver River.

* * *

**So again, I'm sorry for the lateness. Unfortunately, the next chapter might not be coming any time soon; I need a new computer and I also want Microsoft Office (OpenOffice is free, but also horribly inaccurate). Anyway... yeah... also, I don't particularly like this chapter. It just seems... off... tallyho then!**


End file.
